


In Sam's Room

by smalltrolven



Series: Re-Building [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Batcave, Established Relationship, Illnesses, M/M, Reunion Sex, Season 8, Soulmates, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after their promised night of reunion sex, Dean notices the difference between his room and Sam’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sam's Room

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for up through 8.15
> 
> Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Sequel to Building Something. For the hiding an injury/illness spot on my longfic bingo.

“Sam? You in here?” Dean yells into the kitchen, hoping that Sam’s near enough to hear him.  He doesn’t want to take his mucky boots off and come in unless he really has to, but he needs Sam’s help outside with the raising the beam for the garage he’s building.

No answer.  Which means either Sam’s ignoring him, stuck in the books he’s been devouring ever since they opened the door of this place or he’s further into the bunker back in the smaller rooms where the sounds of the main room don’t carry.  “Shit.”  He bends down and unlaces the boots covered in wet mud and construction debris.

Dean grabs a beer out of the refrigerator since he’s there and pads into the main library room on silent sock-covered feet.  Sam’s not in here either, or the War Room either.  Then he hears it, some music coming from the hallway.  As he gets closer he can hear that it’s not one of the records they’ve been spinning from the Men of Letters vintage collection, but something he recognizes.  One of those songs that Sam always sings along to in the car.  And he can hear it now, Sam singing.  He’s glad he’s in his socks so he can hopefully sneak closer and maybe see him without being seen.

He peeks through the crack of the slightly opened door to Sam’s room, three doors down from the one he’d claimed.  A small store-room and the bathroom between them.  There’s a soft light coming through, one of those lamps that Sam was exclaiming about, Tiffany or somebody important made them.  They’re fancy and pretty is all he knows, and they cast multi-colored shapes onto the ceiling which is nice. 

He can hear Sam singing over the music and then it’s interspersed with some pretty significant coughing.  He didn’t realize Sam was sick.  He also hears a fabric rustling sound, then he can see, it’s Sam settling down in his bed.  He’s got a book (of course) propped up in front of him, and he’s lying there without a shirt on, tucked into bed, singing along to the music coming out of the speakers of his laptop.  Dean just stands there for a while taking in this quiet homey, normal scene.  Sam looks more relaxed and happy than he has since, well he can’t remember when.  All it took was a few kisses and everything that came afterwards earlier today to fix him up this well.  Dean’s okay with that.  He doesn’t mind being the solution for once instead of the problem.

Dean’s just so suddenly filled with gladness, that they have this place, to feel safe enough to rest and just be.  Grinning to himself he remembers catching pre-teen Sam, propped up reading in motel beds all across the country in the exact same position, seeing him through the chink in the motel curtain, or just before Sam spotted him at the door.  These flashes of memory remind Dean that home for him is really wherever Sam is.  It’s always been like that.  That’s what he was trying to get back to the whole time he was in Purgatory.  That’s the real reason it’s so hard for him to let Sam do these stupid trials, not just because he’s the big brother and protector, but because of the risk he’s taking, letting the person who is his home, basically his whole world possibly sacrifice himself (again) and leave him alone.  And homeless (again.) 

A feeling bigger than he can contain wells up in him, that Sam needs to know that, that knowing it is what he needs to get through these Trials, that feeling is so big that Sam needs this information right now it propels him into the room and onto the bed, covering his brother with his body and going straight for his mouth.  Claiming him in a kiss that is so painfully good he almost wants to cry with how perfect it is.

Sam drops his book off the side of the bed with a thud, and pushes the bloody Kleenex he had wadded up in his hand under the mattress. “Uh, hello. Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“I need to say something.” Dean says with a focus he normally reserves for when he’s concentrating on a task that he knows will be nearly impossible.  He feels like he’s going to fly apart at the seams if he doesn’t get this across to Sam, and he feels himself shaking inside at the thought that it still won’t be enough to keep him safe.

“Sure, go ahead.” Sam says, oblivious to the quaking and upheaval going on inside of his brother.

Dean takes a deep breath, and looks intently at a spot on the headboard just above Sam’s head, “It’s about the Trials.”

“Okay. Before you say anything, I really am fine so far, it hurt when whatever it was went into my arm.  You saw that.  But I’m good.” Sam knows he should probably ‘fess up about the coughing up blood thing, but he needs to try and handle this on his own.  Make sure that Dean really trusts him first. 

“No not about that. Well kind of.  It’s about why I’ve been such a jerk about you doing them.  Instead of me.”

“Dean, I get that you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it, I really do.”

“No, it’s not that.  I mean of course I’m worried about you and wish I was the one doing it instead.”

“Well then what is it?” Sam asks, looking up at him with a slightly concerned face.

The words desert him all of a sudden, disappearing off into the ether with all his other good intentions, but that big feeling is still there, pushing him forward, the _Tell Sam Now_ alarm going off again.

“Dean say something, you’re scaring me a little here.  Come on, get in here.”  Sam pushes Dean off of him, and pulls back the covers, inviting Dean into his bed.

Dean accepts the invitation silently, taking off his jeans and shirt and sliding in next to his very warm, very alive brother. 

Sam pulls the covers up over them both and lays back on the pillow looking over at Dean, “Please, just tell me, whatever it is, you can say it to me, I swear.”

Deep inside himself where that big overwhelming feeling to _Tell Sam Now_ originated vibrates as if a bell has been struck, like it’s his body issuing a self preservation order to say this to the person who keeps him here and alive, like it’s necessary, superseding the silly inhibitions he’s always clung to about not expressing his feelings, like all those rules about no-chick-flick moments are so much tissue paper, the truth comes busting through when he sees the open, trusting look on Sam’s face, “I didn’t want you to do the Trials because I don’t want to lose you again.  It almost killed me last time and I’m afraid of what will happen to me if you die.”

Sam doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just looks at Dean, eyes never leaving his when he sees what it’s cost his brother to say that out loud, “Oh Dean.”

“I don’t know why, but I just had this feeling I couldn’t ignore, that you needed to hear that from me. That it will help you in the Trials somehow, now that you’ve heard me say the words.” Dean says, knowing that he’s flailing and feeling more than foolish all of a sudden.

“I had to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth huh?” Sam says dryly, smiling at his usually unexpressive brother for opening up to him like this.

“Yeah, something like that.” Dean answers hoping that just because Sam is joking that he really did hear him.

“Well listen, I know you hate saying that kind of stuff, but yeah, when you do, it does help me.  It was what you’d said to me and done with me over our lives that helped me against Lucifer.  So who knows maybe it will come in handy?  But whether it does or not, thank you.”

Dean can’t answer for a little while, thinking about Sam fighting off Lucifer, jumping into that pit for good as far as he knew, and it seems so pointless, that these words never mean anything in the scheme of things, only what they do, “I don’t know why I can’t say this stuff Sammy, I’m sorry.”

Sam shakes his head, not accepting his apology, and runs a hand up Dean’s arm, resting on the side of his neck, “Please don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Say you’re sorry for being you.”

“What?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.  Dean you’re an uncommunicative jerk most of the time, but that’s you, and it’s all part of the you that I love.  I don’t expect anything different from you.”

“Really?” Dean asks with eyebrows raised in surprise, he’s always thought he was letting Sam down by not being able to make with the words enough.

“Yeah.  I mean if you want to say stuff like ‘I love you’ more often I’m not going to object or anything.  I won’t think you’re less of a man or whatever you’re worried about.  But if you don’t, I still know you love me because of all the things you do.  I don’t need the words said all the time, okay?”

“Times like this make me believe I really don’t deserve you.”

Sam suddenly erupts out of the bed, pinning Dean under the weight of his tense body.  “Don’t you ever say that again.”

Dean looks up at his brother with surprise verging on fear, a result of being trapped by him, so suddenly scary and large, “Sammy I can’t…”

‘Yes you can, you absolutely can, you’re worth more than anyone in this whole sorry world.  And you’re the only one who can’t see it.  Damnit Dean, I don’t know how to get this across to you.  If anything I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you!”

Dean struggles and pulls a Judo move he hasn’t used in a long time that Sam doesn’t expect and now he’s the one on top holding Sam down. Staring fiercely into Sam’s eyes, “Now hold on a minute there, I may have some self-esteem issues, I’ll grant you that.  But come on Sam, you saved the whole world, you pretty much deserve anything you want.”

“Well I want you.” Sam says, with that note of little brother stubbornness he can never quite shed.

Dean grins down at him, like Sam’s the smartest and dumbest person all at once, “Then that works out well for both of us doesn’t it?”

Shaking his head to cut off the intensity of Dean’s stare, Sam asks, “What are we even fighting about?”

“Don’t know, but it was kinda hot.” Dean says, moving his hips a little so Sam can’t mistake his hard-on for anything other than it is.  Hot and insistent up against his own.

“I like it that you can pin me like that.” Sam admits, still a little more than turned on with his brother’s weight holding him down so completely.

Dean can’t stop looking at Sam’s mouth, and asks in a low rumble, “Yeah?”

Sam can’t really come up with an answer, not with the predatory way Dean’s looking at him, he feels caught and bound by the sudden presence of this new thing between them. “Uh huh.”

“The things you learn about a guy.” Dean murmurs voice going even lower as his hands roam up and down Sam’s body.

“Well stick around you’ll learn even more.” Sam responds in a cut-off voice as he arches up into his brother.

“Like what?” Dean asks, holding Sam’s body down to the bed with the weight of his own, enjoy his brother beginning to writhe under him.

“Like tonight.  Remember we promised, when we were, you know, outside earlier.” Sam answers, out of breath from holding back his moans.

Dean thinks back to the awesome blowjob Sam had given him out back where he’s building the garage.  And the one he had returned in the shower which was all kinds of hot.  If he hadn’t had to keep working on the garage they would have spent the rest of the day in bed together.  But yeah, they had promised tonight to each other.  This will be the first time they’ve gotten together since, well a long time.  The last time was the night before they’d taken the fight to Dick Roman.  The night before he got zapped to Purgatory.  With everything that’s happened since them, separate and apart, it’s a wonder that they’re still here, much less still together in the same bed.

“You want to do it in here or in my room?” Dean asks, voice catching in a suddenly dry throat.

Sam stops his writhing when he hears Dean’s voice, realizing that he’s got him right where he wants him, just as needy as he is, “Why not here? You’re already in my bed.”

“But it’s so much harder than my memory foam.” Dean whines, thinking of how soft and nice it would be on his new bed.

Sam flips them over once more, so that he’s on top and Dean can tell who’s in charge, at least for now, knowing how much it turns his brother on, “In a few minutes you’re not going to be caring about how hard the mattress is Dean.”

“That so?” Dean tries to put up a front, sticking out his chin like he wants to fight, but they both know he’s joking.

Sam just kisses his jutted-out chin to prove the point, “Yeah.”

At the feel of Sam’s lips on his chin Dean’s hesitations melt, the weight of Sam on him, holding him down, feeling how hard he is, how good it feels to touch the broad expanse of Sam’s naked back.  The skin so hot and the flexing muscles so strong under his fingertips.  Is there anything better than this?  Relearning his brother’s body like any lover who’s been separated.  Kiss by kiss, lips tasting, tongues gliding, fingers pressing and exploring, and all the while their rhythm comes back, their hips pulsing together in a slow steady grind that never fails to put Dean over the edge.  He manages to get his boxers off and starts puling Sam’s off, Sam finally pausing in ravaging Dean’s neck long enough to help.  He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out an almost empty tube of lube.

Dean laughs when he sees the crumpled up tube, “Guess we gotta provision you up Sammy.”

Sam just laughs with him and pushes Dean’s legs apart, coating his fingers in the cool gel, he pets around Dean’s hole gently, loving the feel of the muscles tightening and releasing, as if he’s trying to draw Sam’s fingers in by that alone.  There’s nothing better than watching Dean’s face, the momentary glimpse of discomfort, then it changing into wonder at how good it feels, all the sensitivity is still there, Dean is blindingly hot inside, just as Sam’s remembered all this time.  Wishing that it would happen, that he’d be back here. He leans down to kiss the head of Dean’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head slowly as he watches Dean’s face. He pumps his fingers in and out of Dean a little faster and speeds up his tongue also sucking a little now too. 

Dean throws his head back further into the pillow and groans, he starts writhing under Sam’s hands and mouth, undulating in time with the thrusts of Sam’s fingers and the suction on the just the head of his cock. Balancing between the two sensations, so strung out he doesn’t think he can take it. “Sam, want you in me. Now.” He tries not to beg, but he is, of course he is.

“No Dean, you, I want you in me first.”

“What? But you got me ready.” Dean answers, trying so hard not to whine but pretty much failing.

Sam smiles, hearing how wound-up he’s gotten him, “I know, that’s for later, want you to go first.”

“Uh okay. Dean says, closing his eyes.

Sam knees up around Dean’s hips and leans over so his ass is exposed, he reaches back with one hand and pulls his cheeks apart, “Come on Dean, Get me ready, wanna ride you.”

Dean groans at those words, and grasps the base of his cock, squeezing tightly to stop himself just in time, worrying that this is all going to be over before they get anywhere.  He fumbles around and finds the lube, there’s still just enough left, he gets his fingers coated and teases around Sam’s entrance until he hears a warning growl from Sam, hovering above him.

 “Alright, already, impatient much?”  Finally Dean plunges his finger in, driving in as far it will reach.  It’s a little awkward propped up on his elbows reaching between Sam’s legs, but he makes it work, kissing Sam’s ears and neck until Sam opens his eyes and looks at him, “please Dean, need you in me.”

Dean grins and kisses him deeply, adding the other two fingers stretching Sam out as much as he can, pumping the fingers in and out, finally removing them to stroke his own cock until it stands erect, glistening, ready.  Sam looks down at him and licks his lips like it’s something he’s been wanting to eat for a long time.  He spreads his legs a little wider and brings the tip of Dean’s cock to his hole resting it there for a moment, locking eyes with Dean’s.  This feels different than it usually has.  This moment between the heartache and the loss and the nothing and the pain between them, and a reunion where they’re both worried about the last two trials. 

Sam takes a deep breath and asks, “Ready?”

Dean answers with a smile and a groan, “yeah, c’mon already.”

Sam braces his hands on Dean’s chest and lowers himself down, spreading himself wide, taking in all of Dean, all the way until there’s no more.  They’re connected and together, bound up with one another just like they’ve always been, but this right here, this is where it all is cemented into that unbreakable bond, where there’s nothing for either of them without the other, needing this union more than breathing.  Sam realizes he’s said some if not all of that out loud, and that Dean’s not laughing or killing him, he’s nodding and answering in kind.

“This is what I meant Sammy, I can’t do it without you, just can’t. It’s the same for me.” Dean pants out, thrusting up shallowly.

Sam responds, moving in a slow circle clenching his inner muscles to pull and tug at Dean, coaxing him to release.  “Fill me up Dean, please.”

Sam goes faster, pumping his hips up and down, bouncing on Dean’s cock, Dean thrusting up more forcefully, holding onto Sam’s shoulders so tightly he can see the blue fingerprints he’ll leave behind.  “Want to, so deep Sam, so deep in you.”

“You’re everywhere Dean, everything.” Sam says, wild with unrestrained passion, the filters off his mouth, not holding back, not caring if it makes Dean uncomfortable for once.  “All I have, all I ever wanted. Just you.  C’mon Dean, give it to me now.” He demands.

And Dean finally does, coming hard and long into Sam, feeling himself empty out into his brother, fucking up into him until there’s nothing more.  Nothing left to give.  He pulls Sam down onto him by the neck, grappling him in close, biting his neck and ear so hard he knows there’ll be marks and Sam will undoubtedly bitch, “Mine again Sam, you’re mine again.”

“Yeah Dean, yeah.  Always was.” IT takes everything Sam has not to come right there, just hearing those words.

“Gonna get in me now Sammy?” Dean asks, stroking Sam’s still very hard cock.

“Give me just a second.”  He lifts himself up off of Dean, and then sits down on Dean’s belly, spread wide, come leaking out all over, Dean can feel him flexing his ass, and Sam’s just looking at him.  Finally Sam winks, fucking winks, and scoots back off of Dean, leaning down and licks Dean’s whole belly clean, everything, all of it. 

Dean can feel himself trying to get hard again just from seeing this sight and groans, “get up here,” He pulls Sam up to him so he can kiss him deeply, licking the come and taste of them together out of Sam’s mouth, they trade it back and forth for a while.  “Sam, I had no idea.”

“What?”

“Just, yum.” Dean practically purrs against Sam’s lips.

“Uh, sorry, should have warned you, always wanted to try that.”

“No, uh, it was hot.  Really hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.” Dean points down at his nearly erect cock.

“So my turn now, ready?”

Dean nods and spreads his legs wide, pulling his knees up and stretching himself open.  He can’t look at Sam though like this, it’s too much.

Sam gets in position and the sight of his brother presenting himself like the most obscenely perfect gift ever stops him cold, Dean’s not looking at him though, and he needs him to, “Dean, look at me.” Sam commands in a low voice.

Dean turns his head and meets Sam’s eyes, the open vulnerability there matches his body’s posture, he’s giving himself over to Sam like this, pliant and loose from orgasming so hard, still tasting them mingled on his tongue.  “Sammy, I can’t.”

“You do Dean.  You always do.” Sam touches the side of his face with one soft palm and cradles it for a few moments, Dean leans into it and his eyes never leave Sam’s. 

Sam finds the lube next to Dean and uses the last bit to ready himself, pushing forward into Dean, holding him up onto his lap, holding his eyes, holding his heart open and willing.  “Never going anywhere again without you.”

Dean’s too busy feeling stretched and pulled apart in two directions, everything so sensitive already and now Sam is there, filling him completely.  So perfect and good just like always.  It’s all so right the words just can’t be held back, “I had to tell you Sam, had to, can’t lose you again.  Can’t do it.” The breath punching out of him with every thrust of Sam deep into his body, taking the pounding inexorable weight of him, like he’s trying to carve out a space to be for good.  He doesn’t care now what he says, he knows Sam needs it, as much as he needs this.  This reunion of their bodies is more than just that, it’s their souls too.  He can feel it, like a warm knitting up of torn frayed edges within him.  “I can feel it Sammy.”

“Hope so Dean.” Sam laughs, continuing to thrust even harder into him.

“Not that, I can feel it, we’re getting better.  I mean in here, right here. This is it.” Dean puts his hand up on Sam’s chest right over his heart, “In here, you feel it too right?”

Sam slows down to a slow undulating rhythm that makes Dean’s eyes roll up into his head, and pays attention to everything, his brother’s open body beneath him, his hand clutching at his chest over his heart, over the tattoo, he feels the warmth then, a healing reweaving of something so broken he’d thought it was gone.  “Yeah Dean, oh yeah I feel it now. Come on, come with me again.”  Sam reaches down and wraps his hand around Dean’s cock that’s hard again, and pulls in the familiar pattern he knows Dean loves when he’s getting fucked. 

“You and me Sam, that’s all I need.”

“Me too Dean, everything.  You, you’re everything.” Sam breathes out in a rush as he comes convulsing so hard down over Dean, his hand tightening on Dean’s cock just that little bit more that brings Dean off too.  He works his hand up and down on Dean as he pumps his last bit out deep inside Dean.  Finally he licks Dean’s come off his hand.

“You got a real taste for my come now Sammy?”

“Yeah, I uh, guess I missed it.” Sam smiles and then starts coughing, just like he was dreading doing, still buried deep in Dean, his body convulses in  rattling cough after cough.  Dean reaches over and grabs the tissues, handing a wad to Sam.  He takes them gratefully and covers his mouth, praying that no blood escaped, maybe there won’t be so much this time.  He wipes his face and pulls out slowly, Dean grunting as he pops out.

“Too sensitive?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while I guess.” Dean says making an unreadable face that Sam can’t figure out.

“You mean you didn’t that whole time?”

“What fuck in Purgatory or something? No Sam, I didn’t.”

“Oh I thought you’d...” Sam trails off, not sure what he really thought exactly, just seems inconceivable that Dean would go without sex for this long, must be some sort of record for him.

Dean tries not to get angry about what Sam’s implying, but it hurts a little that his brother would even think that of him, “What? Benny? Cas? It was all monsters all the time Sam. No time for foolin’ around.  Besides, you weren’t there.”

“Now I feel even worse.” Sam answers, thinking of all the time he spent with Amelia oblivious and cut-off from the world.

“For what? Trying to settle down with your girl?”

“Yeah. For everything.  I just couldn’t, well it was just like with Jess.  I couldn’t love her like I should have.  It wasn’t right.”

“Why Sam? Dean asks, even though he suspects he already knows the answer.

Sam looks at him as if he’s asked the dumbest question in the world, “You know why, she wasn’t you.”

“Yeah I know the feeling, remember I tried that too with Lisa.  Wasn’t fair to any of those women I guess.”

“Suppose it’s just you and me.” Sam says, holding Dean’s head in one hand and kissing him gently.

“Yeah, that’s what works.” Dean answers in the small heated space between their lips.

Dean entwines himself around Sam in the small bed and snuggles his face up to his favorite spot to sleep, nose pressed against the side of Sam’s neck.  He feels his heart rate slowing down to match Sam’s steady beat, he falls asleep to the sound of Sam’s steady breaths.

Sam doesn’t sleep for a while, too energized by Dean’s words and the amazing sex, too worried that he’s going to cough again and that Dean will see the blood.  He wills his cough to leave him alone, to let him have this night of holding his brother tight against him like he should always be.  No more pain and angst, just them together, Sam feels stronger even though the blood loss is taking it out of him.  Having Dean say all this worked, his feels strengthened at the core, in a deep significant way.  Knowing that Dean’s behind him and why he’s so worried is what will get him through the trials.  He’s made a promise, no more leaving.  He falls asleep finally, concentrating on that thought like a mantra, _just you and me_.

 

~!@~!@~!@~

Dean wakes up first for once, probably because of the awful mattress.  Maybe they’ll have to get Sam one of those adjustable beds where one side can be firm and one softer.  One that’s bigger so they’ve got more room for stretching out and rolling over. Oh and for more active sex.  Since that seems to be happening again.  He’s glad to note how sore some of his muscles are, those ones you only tax during incredible sex, as he turns over a little, away from his spot, lips nestled up against Sam’s long neck. 

They never managed to turn the bedside lamp off last night so he can look around Sam’s room while still wrapped up in his arms and staying warm together in his bed.  The first thing he notices is how utterly spare it is.  There’s nothing but the bed, the bedside table and lamp and a small dresser.  There’s not a single thing that he can see in this room that says Sam Winchester Lives Here.  Nothing on the walls for decoration, no personal trinkets on the dresser’s surface.  Only Sam in his bed.  The old bed he insisted was fine, just fine, we don’t need to buy a new one for me too the week that Dean had splurged on his.  If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Sam wasn’t happy here.  By the looks of this room, it seems like Sam’s not nesting, at least not the same way he is.  Dean thinks about that, how different they are, and he’s glad.  Because it’d be boring if they were the same. 

So then he wonders if there’s nothing in here that’s Sam’s because he just doesn’t have anything.  Sam’s been so immersed in the cataloging and the researching for Kevin that he hasn’t taken the time to go out and buy anything like Dean has.  Then he feels guilty, because he should have gotten stuff for Sam, why didn’t he?  And what would he have even gotten?

He’s just surprised that Sam’s not happy and nesting like Dean would have thought he’d be after wanting normal for so long. Dean thinks that this place is probably as normal as possible for them, and he hopes it’s an alternative to Sam’s ideal life with Amelia.  But it must not be enough, or maybe not what Sam really wants.  Then the whole I’m not good enough for Sam thing starts up again (of course), and Dean stops himself for once, remembering last night, and Sam so fiercely proclaiming that Dean is worth more than anyone else in this world.  He drifts off back into a light sleep, held warm and snug in Sam’s strong arms.  When Sam stirs a little while later, he turns back towards him, nestling his nose back on the side of Sam’s neck, inhaling that heady scent of Sam and sex, specifically the smell of them together.

“Good morning.”  Sam yawns.

“Mmm yes good morning.” Dean turns his face up and receives a morning-after kiss, full of bad breath, gummy lips that turns divinely hot and wanton within the space of two seconds.  Sam’s hips are moving against his; Sam’s morning hardness insistent against his own.  There’s nothing better than the feeling of Sam’s large hand running down his back, skimming over his hip and enclosing both of their cocks together in his firm grip.  The twisting grip Sam uses always gets him there so fast, especially when he’s got the velvety softness of the skin of Sam’s cock to rub against.  So hard and soft at the same time, like nothing else.  The pads of Sam’s fingers roughened by handling all those books, skate over the sensitive head of Dean’s cock and he gasps.  “Sam.”

“Uh huh?” Sam murmurs distractedly, keeping that relentless pace steady until they both can’t take it anymore.

“More, a little more?” Dean asks, feeling strung out by waiting just this little bit, wanting to get off again, so he adds his own hand over Sam’s, squeezing a little bit harder, speeding up the strokes until they’re both going off, getting each other’s bellies and hands wet again.

They both relax back, Sam holds his hand up to Dean’s mouth where he waits until Dean licks the come off.  Then Dean does the same, the feel of Sam’s rough tongue against his palm giving him shivers that double the pleasure of the tail end of his orgasm.  Sam reaches down to kiss Dean again, now they taste like they should, the mingled flavors of their come so delicious Dean doesn’t even want to consider getting out of bed and ruining it with the taste of coffee or something.

“It is a good morning.” Sam says happily.  “Thought this was all a dream.”

“What last night?” Dean asks

“Yeah, all of it.  Glad it’s not.”  Sam kisses him to accentuate the statement.

“Me too.”  Dean kisses him back so that he knows he’s not kidding, then he asks, “Hey Sammy, are you happy here?”

“Of course.  You’re cooking me awesome hamburgers, we’re safe, all the books, yeah I’m happy, why?” Sam starts coughing, and can’t stop for a while, fumbling for the tissues and turning away so Dean can’t see.

Dean rubs his back a little as he coughs, waiting for it to be over, “I just was looking at your room, and it seems like you haven’t really moved in.”

Sam turns back and looks at him a little quizzically, with a small shrug, “What’s the point?  Not like we’ll be here long.”

“How do you figure?”

“When have we ever gotten to keep something this good for very long Dean?” Sam asks, hating how defeated and pessimistic he sounds even to himself.

“Who’s going to take it away from us?” Dean asks, genuinely curious who Sam is so worried about coming between them and their new home.

“I don’t know. The angels, the demons, whoever, doesn’t matter, I just can’t plan on it.”

“Do you want it though, this to be our place?” Dean asks, a little hesitant to put his own wishes out there so clearly.

“Sure, I guess, but like I said, I just can’t plan on it.”

“Remember what you said about the light at the end of the tunnel and all that?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well this place, with you and me in it, I decided that’s my light.” Dean says plainly, knowing that it’s sappy as hell, but it’s also true as anything and he needs Sam to believe it with him.

“I guess mine was just me and you alive and together, and not in a certain place, but I can see the appeal.”  Sam hopes he’s hiding how hard it is not to get attached to this place, because he wants it more than anything, except maybe for closing the Gates of Hell.

“Last night, what I said to you, what I felt I had to say, because you need it to get through the Trials.  Well, I think you need to add this on to it.  Sammy, this is our home, we’re meant to be here.  It got dropped in our laps at exactly the right time when we needed it.  Having something this big, what this place means with all the legacy stuff, plus it being where we live together is another arrow for your quiver. Got it?” Dean pulls Sam’s chin up gently with his hand so that he’ll meet his eyes.

Sam rests the weight of his head on Dean’s hand for a second, his eyes taking in all of Dean, realizing that he really truly means what he’s saying, “Yeah, okay.”

“That a yes I agree or a yeah okay just to shut me up?”

“Shut up.” Sam grins.

“So, I want you to make this feel like a home.  I know it’s a risk, to want something, hope it will stick around, but follow your own rules dude that you were telling me.  Put up some art or buy a new pillow, whatever, just get this room looking like it’s actually yours and you’re planning on staying awhile, okay?” Dean gestures with one arm around the room, pointing out all the blank starkness.

Sam gathers him back into his arms and kisses him with a fierce suddenness, “It wasn’t just that.  Not wanting to risk wanting this.  It’s everything else that I really wanted.  I was putting off doing anything until, well until we got things worked out.”

“So did we?”

“Yeah I think so.  Or at least we’re off to a really good start at least.  Hey, Dean, can I ask you something?”

Dean nods, worried as all hell that it’s going to be a question he can’t answer or give.

“Do you think we could spend some time and make a room that’s just for us?”

“What’s wrong with how we’ve got it set up now?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that we’ve got our own rooms, our own spaces, like it is now, but I’d like to take one of the other bedrooms we’re not using and make it ours.”

“You mean because we’re together like this again?” Dean grinds his hips against Sam’s to make the point.

“Yeah, I think it’s important that we have a place that’s just for us.”

“Where we sleep together, have sex, all that?”

“All that.”

“I can get behind that. But you’re helping.” Dean insists.

“Of course.”

“What do you want to put in there?”

“I don’t know.  Never thought about it.”

“Well you said you wanted it to be a place just for us, so what would make it be that?”

“I guess I always wanted a big bed to share with you. How about you?”

“That was going to be my first thought.  Something to play music on. One of those speaker things where you just plug your iPod in and it plays. What else Sammy?”

“Sheets and blankets that are new and ours.” Sam thinks of all those sheets and blankets they’ve purchased at Goodwill or the Salvation Army over the years, still serviceable, but worn and stained by someone else.

“I’m getting that a lot of this centers around the bed.” Dean teases.

“Well we have the whole rest of the place for everything else.  Besides, having no distractions in your bedroom is supposed to give you better sleep.” Sam answers, knowing that he sounds like someone who’s thought way too much about this particular subject.

“That’s not gonna work for me.”

“Why’s that?” Sam asks, worried that he’s asked for too much, that he’s freaked Dean out by asking for this.

“’cause you’re gonna be there.  That’s the biggest distraction there is.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you last night.” Sam answers, biting his way up and down Dean’s neck until he squirms away.

“Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause we were so uh active.”

“Another reason to just have a bed.”

“So we’re going to go today and get that bed.” Dean decides, knowing that he’s going to try to steer Sam towards splurging on a memory foam one like he got for his room.

“But I’m working on this thing for Kevin, he needs it as soon as I can pull it together.”

“Fine, that has priority, I’ll go by myself then, but no bitching if you don’t like it.” Dean wags one finger at him and Sam tries to bite at it.

“You know what I like.” Sam says, voice full of trust.

“Yeah I suppose I do.” Dean answers, already thinking about what Sam really wants.

~!@~!@~!@

Dean puts himself to the test while he’s out.  He gets to try and answer the question, ‘Does he really know what Sam likes?’ He knows that having Sam’s room decorated will be good for him, and getting a room together just for them is pretty much brilliant. But while he’s out here, he works hard to choose some things that sum up Sam for him.  And hopefully that’ll work until Sam takes the time to do the rest for himself.  He chooses new sets of high thread-count sheets and the extra firm pillows Sam prefers, remembering the one time they’d stayed at a high-end bed and breakfast that had stuff like this, and how Sam had gone on and on about how great the bed felt because of the sheets and pillows. 

In a local artist’s collective he finds a handmade quilt in triangles of Sam’s favorite color, all the greens in it will make the room glow and Sam’s always doodling triangles.  There’s also one with looping interlocking circles in a larger size that will fit their new bed.  He also finds some original local art, paintings of scenery that remind him of places Sam’s exclaimed over during their journeys together, endless rolling hills, forest glade in moonlight.

His last stop is to get a couple of the pictures he’s got copied and enlarged.  They’re mostly of their family, young John and Mary, the few that have all of them together with baby Sammy in his parent’s arms, or the one where his four year old self is holding a squirmy baby Sammy on his lap, looking proud and terrified. There are just those two that show him and Sam as kids.  But there are a few of their friends too.  There’s one of Jo and Ellen and Ash sitting on the edge of one of the Roadhouse pool tables all hoisting beer mugs, laughing and happy.  The odd one of Rufus and Bobby arguing outside at the Salvage yard that Sam had taken through the kitchen window without them knowing.  A picture that Bobby had taken of them with Cas, sitting on his lumpy couch, shot glasses lining the table before them, it had been not long after they’d gotten Sam’s soul back, before they knew the whole story.  It’s a reminder that not all the memories are 100% good.

The most recent is a picture they’d taken at Bobby’s right before the place had burned down.  They’d been having a wake of sorts for Cas after his disappearance in the water.  There’d been a lot of Hunter’s Helper consumed, but he can remember it like it happened just yesterday, Sam setting the timer on their digital camera and unsteadily running across the living room to get in the frame in time, the three of them leaning against Bobby’s messy desk, Sam and Dean’s arms over Bobby’s shoulders, his arms around their waists, their faces flushed with liquor and relief at still being alive together.  As he waits for the copying to be done to take his mind off all the memories the pictures bring up, he chooses some frames that will go with the colors in the quilt.  It’s not a lot, but when it’s all in the room, he thinks Sam will be pleased.

Later that day, after they’ve had some frozen lasagna and a salad, Dean drags Sam away from heading back into the library room.  “C’mon, got a surprise for you.”

He leads Sam down the staircase and hallway towards their rooms, passes his own, and the one he’s working on for them together, so far just the bed is in there with the new bedding, and then he stops at Sam’s door. He steps back so that Sam can enter first.  He’d left just the Tiffany bedside lamp on and the room glows with its warm shapes of colored light.  Sam only takes a few steps inside and halts.  Dean can hear him stop breathing and gets worried. 

“Is it okay Sam?”

Sam doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Dean can tell he’s scanning everything in the room, cataloging, weighing, evaluating.  Sam turns to him and pulls him into a crushing wordless embrace.  He can feel Sam’s body shaking like he’s crying, so Dean just holds on tighter.  He can feel Sam wipe at his eyes before he steps back and looks at him with an expression that is so filled with emotion Dean couldn’t possibly categorize it, “It’s perfect Dean.  Thank you.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it.”

“You know how last night you were worrying about not being able to tell me important stuff.  Well this here, is important, whether you know it or not.”

“Sam, I just bought you some stuff for your room.” Dean protests, even though he knows it’s absolutely futile.

“Yeah, but it’s more than just that, you could have bought the first, most basic thing you found, but you didn’t. You chose each and every thing carefully.” Sam insists, knowing he’s got to get this through to Dean.

“Well, I wanted to get things that you’d like.  So you’d feel at home here.”

“I know, but this,” Sam gestured to the whole room, “This is important to me, because this is how you see me.  And it shows how you know me inside and out.  Everything in here I would have chosen for myself.”

Dean ducks his head at the praise, feeling so warm inside at Sam’s words, happy that he’s done well at outfitting a room for his brother, “Good, I’m glad you liked what I picked out for you.”

“It’s more than just that.  Dean, I can look at each thing, and know exactly why you chose it without having to ask you.  That’s how close we are.  But these photographs, seeing them all in one place like this, well that’s what got to me. More than anything else, you know I need to remember, the good people we’ve had in our lives.”

“I guess that’s another thing, add it to what I was saying last night and this morning.  All of that together.  I really have this feeling that it’s going to help you in the Trials somehow.”

“I’m glad you’re telling me this. I think you’re right.”  Sam leans over and coughs, wiping his hand on his jeans before he straightens up, hoping that he’s wiped all the blood off.

Dean rubs his back, concerned that maybe Sam is really sick, “That’s quite a cough you’ve got there.  You need anything for that?”

“Nah, I’m good, it’s no big deal.”

“You’d tell me if it was something else right?”

“Of course I would.”

“So you want to sleep with me tonight in my room? Our room’s not quite ready yet.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Lead the way, I’m right behind you.”

Dean turns to walk out of the room, but hesitates in the doorway looking back at Sam.  He’s got his hand on the quilt, stroking it with one hand and looking at the pictures on the wall.  He leaves, deciding to let Sam have a few minutes to himself. 

Sam feels when Dean leaves his room, and waits until he hears him go into his own down the hall. He grabs another Kleenex and coughs into it, spitting out the blood that he’s getting too used to.  He’ll have to tell Dean soon, he knows that. But just for one more night he wants to pretend everything’s okay.

~FIN~


End file.
